Secrets
by Tess 4 5
Summary: Sometimes it needs a little help from others to reveal a secret. Sometimes it needs a little help from others to set things in motion. This time it obviously worked.


**Author's usual notes and disclaimer:** I don't own any of the original characters nor the original Inspector Lynley Mysteries – they belong to Elizabeth George and the BBC. I have borrowed the characters from the TV-Show and solely own the ideas of _my_ stories and the developments _I've_ let them go through.

Please write a **P** rivate **M** essage if I did something terribly wrong so I can fix it. Thanks!

Please read and review! More thanks!

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 **Author's note and summary:** Sometimes it needs a little help from others to reveal a secret. Sometimes it needs a little help from others to set things in motion. This time it obviously worked. Enjoy...

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 **Secrets**

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One early evening in Cornwall...

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She knew the back door always was open so she did not even bother to knock. Missy welcomed her barking friendly and with a wagging tail so the lovely old dog lady received a gentle pat on the head. With a few long strides she passed the huge kitchen. When she entered the corridor in the rear of the centuries old building she raised her voice. On the gravel in front of the house she already had seen his car so she knew he must be at home.

"Detective Inspector Thomas Lynley!" she called out emphasising every single word.

Two seconds later Daze peeped her head out of the door to the library with a deeply confused expression.

"Ma'am." the purposefully walking woman said and nodded coming past the old lady of the manor.

"Barbara?" DI Lynley came from the study with a similarly irritated look.

"Oh, you fool!" Barbara ranted ignoring that he simultaneously went on talking to her.

"What are you d- mmmh!"

Two arms were looped around his neck and a pair of lips sealed his. His arms automatically went around her waist.

He was surprised but he had no objections at all.

His mother only smiled and silently retreated to her book. Before she had closed the door behind her the faint sound of a camera clicking reached her ears.

* * *

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The previous day...

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Peter Lynley, the younger brother of the Earl of Asherton, was known for his complicated life. Most of these problems laid behind him and he was recovering slowly. It was not yet perfect but he finally was doing quite well. Living in Truro he was still not too far away from night life but close enough to his beautiful birthplace Howenstow where his mother was living and his siblings payed regular visits. For their mother's birthday for example, which was why they all were here these days.

To his mother's great relief Peter had found a new pastime which distracts him from bad influences that could bring him back into his drug consuming routine. It had started with an old camera they had found in his father's old box in the attic and it eventually turned into some sort of professional photography business. Peter seemed to have the magic touch for it and even had sold a series of brilliant shots of the Cornish coast. The people in Nanrunnel booked him for many events which took place there. Probably because he charged a good price for them but this at least gave him a somewhat continuous income that made him feel independent from the family assets.

Today, since it was such a beautiful sunny day with almost no wind which was a rare occasion at the coast, he had planned on trying out his new toy. Of course he already had played with it in the courtyard of Howenstow so he knew how to operate his quadrocopter. In the morning he had fixed a tiny camera at it and now he wanted to take a few pictures of the coast and sea.

* * *

On his way across the meadows Peter thought about his older brother Tommy. He had been brooding almost the entire time he had been here. Together with their mother Peter already was worrying what Tommy could be concocting this time. Recently their relationship had become distinctively better. Peter was more balanced due to his artistic work and Tommy appeared as if he had grown more lenient with age but since the older one of the so different brothers was thinking so much and was silent most of the time there also could have happened something drastic in London or during his work as a police officer at the Met.

Tommy never talked about it.

He had not talked about anything but he also had not drunk himself into stupor which Peter saw as a good sign. Climbing across a fence he laughed about the irony of it. Still Tommy was unusually quiet and, what his mother had mentioned, had not wasted any words on Barbara, his partner at work and obviously friend in private. On previous occasions he literally never had stopped talking about her.

Wedging through on a narrow path between the bushes that secured the public on the coastal path from getting too close to the dangerous cliffs, a way he had used a lot when he had strolled about the area in younger days and knew where to go and where not, Peter realised that Tommy had been out here every day of his stay and so now he wondered if he would find him here again.

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And there he was. Peter just had taken a picture of a seagull crying at him because she felt disturbed on her lonely and warm stone there and his eyes wandered further down the rock outcrop. A needle whin bush, almost set afire in yellow by the bright light of the sun, had caught his eye and he had another nice motive. But down on the beach a lonely figure stood there watching out on the sea.

Peter let the camera click several times. Tommy surely would be positively surprised when he would get the photo prints from his younger brother. In his old beloved woollen jumper he just stood there on the sand, the light breeze ruffling his hair, his gaze focussing the horizon or anywhere else. Peter felt not ugly but he always envied his older brother for that certain handsome touch he probably was not even aware of.

With a sudden angry movement that made Peter jerk in surprise the man on the beach threw a stick into the water a few yards away from him.

Peter's camera almost constantly clicked while Tommy picked up a few stones and threw them into the waves as if he was about to force them to stop rolling. Then he saw it. At his brother's feet was a heart carved into the sand and the letters in it were saying

 **B + T**

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Peter swallowed. Could this be true? He had poked his fun on Tommy, saying something brotherly rude about the quirky relationship between his brother and the Sergeant. Now he was not so sure if it had been the right thing. Tommy had not defended himself against that but Peter had seen it in the light of the silent mood he was in and had not really thought much more about it. Never would he have guessed that his brother could secretly be in love with his Sergeant.

For a moment Peter was giving his camera a minute's rest while he pensively watched Tommy stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans. The waves were only one yard away now. When his brother walked away from the heart on the beach the young man on the cliff above him started his quadrocopter with the movable camera. Keeping the focus on his brother down there he let it soar into the sky.

Although on the tiny monitor of the remote control it was not easy to make out Peter was deeply moved by the image of Tommy sitting on a bigger rock above the sand watching the rolling waves of the tide slowly washing away the heart he had carved. Then the lonely man buried his face in the palms of his hands.

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After tea and scones, Tommy still was not at home but had called that he was having a pint with one of the farmers at the Crown and Horse and would not be home for dinner, Peter showed the pictures and the short film to his mother.

Daze obviously was fighting her tears for a while.

"Could it be Barbara?" Peter asked. His mother only nodded. He sighed. "Oh, blimey..."

His feet propped on the small coffee table, the laptop on his knees, Peter browsed through the shots again and put them together into a short film he planned to give Tommy. All the time he did not once hear Daze turning a page of the book she was staring at so he was rather surprised when she suddenly spoke.

"Do you have her mobile number?"

Peter knew exactly what she had in mind. It only supported his own idea. Not very much later he sent a message to Barbara.

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Later that day in London...

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Barbara came home from shopping. She had heard her mobile beeping on the way from the superstore to her car but she did not bother to check. If it was Nkata with something important about their case he would have called, so it surely was nothing she should have to know immediately.

Although of course it could be a peep from her boss. She missed him quite a bit and yesterday evening she finally had admitted it to herself while she was brushing her teeth and caught her sad eyes in the mirror above the sink. At the moment his Lordship was at his stately home in Cornwall having a few days off and leaving his team into the hands of that stupid new DI Johnson. Lynley surely was enjoying himself because he had not sent a single message yet.

In fact it was no wonder after their disagreement before he had left. They had argued about her not wanting to come with him. Lynley had not understood it but neither had he been able to tell her any good reason why she should accompany him to that family event. It was not even a milestone birthday of his mother.

That he had not sent any sign until now was the reason why Barbara was not really sure if she would want to read a message from him at all. It only would stir her carefully hidden emotions again. Being secretly in love with her boss was not easy to cope with in general and to constantly accompany him to family events was not only probably raising questions from his lot but it also was eating her away. She was about to become insane but this time she finally had managed to say no to his invitation. Of course Lynley had no clue why and so it ended in a loud dispute.

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Thinking of him she now laboriously unpacked her bags and put everything away in her kitchen. Rather sure that this finally was a message from Cornwall she even cleaned her bathroom before she sat down in front of the telly and opened a can of beer watching the late night news.

Being tired after a long day Barbara almost had forgotten that there was a message but some magazine report about young people and their constant use of these modern communication devices reminded her of the beep of her own mobile phone so she finally checked it.

It was Peter's number shown on the display and in fragments of a second a billion worst case scenarios flashed through her mind. Her rational thinking fortunately reminded her that any of these would not be sent in a message. Her heart though kept pounding when she hit the accept button.

Peter had sent a file and it made her curious while the download took its time. Then she started the film which began with the beautiful picture of a bright yellow bush at the cliffs of Cornwall.

* * *

For four minutes she stared at the screen. Everything broke down. Everything jumped in joy. Everything inside her body and mind was in a turmoil, not knowing if she should be happy or not. The collage of still and moving pictures showed her beloved boss at the beach and it ended with a low wave finally completely covering the heart that had been carved into the sand at Tommy's feet.

For four minutes more she kept on staring at the still screen until it went into sleep mode. Questions came up but she still stared at the blank screen.

It could not be B for Barbara, could it?

But then again, why should Peter send it to her?

Could it be that he just missed the correct name browsing the contact list on his mobile?

And if it was B for Barbara, why had Tommy still not sent a message himself?

Wasn't he missing her like she missed him?

And why had he never said anything, nor given any hint?

Or was she blind?

Was she perhaps still biased?

Or still tainted with her own fears and objections?

And why did they fight over the trip to his mother's birthday if he only had needed to say one single word to convince her?

Or three, that is.

Barbara snorted a laugh. No. She knew herself too well. She probably would not have believed him anyway.

Unable to give any comment yet she refrained from answering Peter but she almost found no sleep this night.

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The next morning...

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It was no surprise that the next day at work was a tough one for Barbara.

It started as an almost normal day. The team drove to a witness and the crime scene and they pinned pictures and notes at their whiteboard. They interviewed a suspect and they had a meeting with the team around noon.

Barbara's mind was completely elsewhere and after she had dropped her paper cup of coffee, had forgotten her notes, left a file in the interview room and did not answer to questions four times the new DI ordered her to a private conversation.

"I'm sure there's a lot of stuff in your busy head, Havers, but could you please explain why you're so absent-minded today?"

"No, Sir, I can't." Barbara shyly muttered. At his still questioning gaze she added in harsh defence "I'm afraid that it's private."

"Oh, I'm very sure of that." DI Johnson leaned back in the chair that was Tommy's. He used his office while he was away and it angered Barbara beyond measure. "I respect that. But you must understand that I cannot tolerate such an unprofessional behaviour at work."

Barbara nodded ruefully and knew deep inside she would not get her mind away from Tommy. All the more here in his office.

"You can be glad that we're at a point where I can give you the rest of the day off. Go for a long walk, Sergeant. And only come back when you can think straight again. Whatever it is that bothers you, please sort it out quickly."

"Thank you, Sir."

* * *

Barbara started sorting it out right away. All the way home she had been thinking about Tommy and the pictures Peter had sent. There was only one thing she wanted right now and that was to tell him immediately that she loved him, that she hoped that she did not misinterpret the pictures and he loved her at least a bit if not as deep as she loved him, and most of all she wanted to hurry into his arms and tell him personally. Twice she had halted at a random kerb and picked up her phone to send him a text message but she had deleted them before she dared to hit the send button. In the end she knew she could not do that. Some things just had to be clarified face to face.

Or lips to lips.

To be honest, words were not particularly needed. Barbara deeply sighed when she restarted the engine of her car once more and aligned with the traffic.

Arriving at her flat she went straight to her bedroom and quickly packed her bag with a few spare clothes without even having made the _clear_ decision to drive down to Cornwall but only half an hour later Barbara was on the M4 west bound and Reading already laid in her back.

She was not at all sure if this really was the right thing to do. It still could be a misunderstanding. Tommy could have meant another woman. Peter could be wrong. She herself could be all wrong. And if she would come to Howenstow what should she say? What should she do? What would she do if everything became awkward? It certainly would become awkward, that much she knew herself.

* * *

At least twenty times she told herself to take the next exit and return to London. At least twenty times, when she saw the exit sign, she told herself that she would never know and never get this out of her mind if she would not drive on. Swindon flew by in no time and north of Bristol she took the M5 southward and still was unsure of her decision. On the A30 Exeter was passed and Bodmin quickly was left behind. She drove through Truro and Penryn and had no eyes for the beauty of Helston. She had been driving through another village before she even had the chance to process its name. Then she was in Nanrunnel and took the turn to the right just behind the church yard.

Suddenly she was driving through the gates to Howenstow and then the gravel of the space at the front door splattered into the wheel case of her car when she passed the driveway and rolled straight into the private backyard where she used to park. As always Tommy's old classic car stood at the front entrance as if a film director had placed it there for a kitschy movie. Daze's old Landrover stood in the back of the manor under the carport roof.

Barbara had been driving here as fast as the speed limits allowed it and she managed to stop only once for a short break but still it was rather late already. The sun was only sending a faint light of farewell into the sky. Nobody seemed to have taken notice of her arrival and so Barbara kept sitting in her car for nearly ten minutes to sort out her thoughts.

* * *

What the heck had she been thinking?

What would the family say?

What should _she_ say?

What should she do?

How would Tommy react when she suddenly appeared at the door?

* * *

Ah, to hell with all that!

Barbara finally exited her car. When she closed the door a dog inside gave mouth. Her clear aim in mind she walked to the wooden back door and straight into the building. If it would fail and she was all wrong - so be it. She finally knew what she had to do. Right now. No more questioning. No more hesitance. She knew exactly what she was going to to. And she knew she actually should have done it a long time ago.

It was the right decision.

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End file.
